


I will kiss you till your breath is found

by 100indecisions



Series: Loki fic [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dark Frostmaster, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grandthorki, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel)-centric, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Loki (Marvel), PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Coercion, Strangulation, Thor (Marvel) Angst, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Whumptober, he's trying very hard anyway, lotta hurt and a teeny bit of comfort, non-consensual sibling incest, well it is but it's not all happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-03 04:57:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100indecisions/pseuds/100indecisions
Summary: Thor convinces the Grandmaster to bring Loki back from the dead--but he's not gonna do it for free. That would--that would just besilly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts).



> so uhhhhhhhhhhh this is _absolutely nothing_ like any fics I've posted before--I mean, it includes Loki whump, and angst for Loki and Thor, and it's an Infinity War fix-it, so obviously those are things I've done before, but this is also...way more sexual content than I've ever written before, _and_ it's fairly fucked-up sexual content that starts as dubcon in this chapter and gets worse, so...that's a thing I've done now. (Am I insecure about it? YOU BETCHA.) Please read responsibly and mind the tags and warnings. 
> 
> Anyway, this was written for [Grandthorki Day](https://grandthorkiday.tumblr.com/), because loxxlay is super great and deserves an equally great birthday. It's also important to note that this fic follows [the specific Grandthorki definition found there](http://loxxxlay.tumblr.com/post/176993979749/ive-had-3-people-ask-me-in-the-last-week-or-so), which is, Loki and Thor's feelings for each other here are strictly platonic.
> 
> The title is from "Heirloom" by Sufjan Stevens.

When Loki opens his eyes again after dying at Thanos’s hand on the _Statesman_ , the first thing he sees is his brother.

Thor is leaning over him with the beginnings of a tearful smile, and Loki blinks at him, his thoughts sluggish. He is dead, so if he is seeing Thor, then Thor too must be—but no, why would he look so worn in Valhalla, his face scratched and bruised and his hair still cropped short? He has two eyes again, but they are different colors, and the scar remains.

“Am I…not dead?” he asks finally. His voice is hoarse, and his throat _hurts_ , if not as much as he might have expected.

Thor beams at him through his tears. His hand gripping Loki’s is solid and very warm. “You’re not dead, brother. Not anymore.”

“Aw, Sparkles, you’re leaving out the best part!” says another familiar voice. “And by ‘best part’ I obviously mean, you know, me.”

Loki flinches, twisting his head without thinking, and the motion sends a bolt of grinding pain through his neck so that the second thing he sees on returning to life is blurred with tears but entirely unmistakable.

“Hey, kitten,” the Grandmaster says.

Loki stares at him, his already sluggish thoughts coming to a halt. The Grandmaster grins at him. “Gosh, you’re just— _cute_ when you’re all confused, you know that? You get this little line between your eyebrows—” He taps it, and Loki flinches again, unable to keep his reactions under control. “Your big brother was pret-ty upset about you getting yourself bumped off like that so he came to me with your body, all sad puppy-dog eyes, and how could I say no? I mean, you _did_ both betray me, leave, and start a revolution that nearly took away my planet but you know me, I don’t like to hold a grudge. Especially when there are so much better things to do.”

Loki tenses, hearing the warming that the Grandmaster isn’t saying. He needs to fix this, apologize, ingratiate himself again, and he can’t _think_.

“Boy, that uh, that Thanos guy sure did a number on you, huh?” the Grandmaster says. His sympathy sounds almost sincere. “When your brother dragged you in here all beat-up and frozen, I was just like, _wow_. But then I figured, why not, you really were one of my favorites, and here you are—good as new!”

Loki does not feel even close to “good as new,” but even with his head all muddled, he knows he has to say something. “Thank you…for…your kindness,” he forces out past the jagged pain in his throat.

“Aw, honey, don’t even mention it,” the Grandmaster says. “Though—okay, ‘good as new’ was maybe a, a _little_ bit of an exaggeration. But you will be! We’ve got just the _best_ drugs here, I know you remember, and they’re working away right now. So between that and some of my more _special_ abilities, you’ll be all back to normal before you know it. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Loki starts to nod, not cautiously enough, and stops with a choked gasp as the movement brings more tears to his eyes.

The Grandmaster laughs and stands up. “Okay, kitten, time to stop overexerting yourself, huh? I’ve got people to do and things to see, so I’ll let you rest up and recover. But don’t worry, I’ll see you later when you’re feeling better.” He winks, pats Loki’s thigh, and leaves in a shimmer of gold fabric.

“He’s right, you know,” Thor says. “You can sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” His hand squeezes Loki’s, very gently, as if Loki is something fragile and impossibly precious. “You’re safe now.”

There’s something he isn’t saying, Loki thinks, but a few minutes of consciousness and a handful of words have left him too exhausted to pursue it. The bed is soft, Thor is here, and— _safe_ is wrong, though he can’t quite think why, and at the moment that’s good enough. He lets his eyes drift shut and sinks back into deep, dreamless sleep. 

* * *

When he wakes again, some of the fog in his head has cleared, and his body feels slightly less like…well, like death. He still aches everywhere, especially in his neck, but there’s no more horrible grind of bone when he very, very carefully turns his head, and his left hand feels sore but functional. If nothing else, Sakaar does indeed have marvelous drugs. He also realizes for the first time that he is completely naked under the bed’s thin blanket. All things considered, he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, but…he doesn’t think he likes it, either.

Thor is still sitting by his bed, eyes closed and head tilted at an uncomfortable-looking angle. He is even—very faintly—snoring. Loki watches him for a moment, something painfully fond twisting in his chest. He is sorry Thor had to watch him die and mourn him again, sorry that he couldn’t fight Thanos at his brother’s side, and sorrier still that it was Thanos who killed him in the end, when Loki was finally starting to believe he’d escaped—but he cannot bring himself to regret his choice. Thor is alive, after all—and if Loki had not provoked Thanos into killing him instead, he is nearly certain the Titan would have killed Thor to punish him and then left him alive. And that would have been…intolerable.

It wasn’t a very good plan, perhaps, but it was what he had. Loki knew the moment Thanos boarded the ship that he and Thor would not both leave alive, and from there it was an easy decision. He would make it again if necessary, although he doesn’t plan to tell Thor that. As bargains go, Loki’s life for Thor’s is not a bad one.

 _…bargains. Oh no_. Thor shifts in the chair, head lolling further to the side, as Loki realizes with a lurch that he has no idea what kind of bargain Thor might have made for his resurrection. He didn’t even know the Grandmaster had the power to bring people back from the dead, and the thought is disturbing by itself, but he couldn’t possibly have done it out of kindness or because he likes the Odinsons that much. There must have been a price.

And Thor, noble, self-sacrificial, open-hearted idiot that he is, probably would have agreed to almost anything. A life for a life is traditional—if the Grandmaster demanded Thor remain on Sakaar as a contender (or worse), Thor wouldn’t hesitate.

 _What did you do_ , he tries to say, but all that comes out is a harsh croak, and he can see nothing within easy reach that he might throw. Just as he is wondering in frustration if he has the strength yet to lift and throw the bed’s second pillow, Thor wakes himself with a snort. His eyes land on Loki’s and a relieved grin spreads over his face.

“You’ve been asleep almost 20 hours,” he says. “How do you feel?”

Loki makes the croaking noise again, and Thor nearly trips over himself fetching water. He has to prop Loki up and help him drink, which is slightly embarrassing, but being able to swallow again with only a little pain is wonderful enough that Loki can’t really bring himself to care.

“Better,” he says when Thor finally sets the pitcher and empty glass aside. “I feel…better. Less like a corpse.”

Thor’s smile is so wide it almost hurts to look at. “I’m very, very glad to hear it. I wasn’t sure anyone could help but—I had to try.”

 _Oh, Thor_. “What have I missed?” His brother hesitates, and Loki’s stomach clenches. “Tell me.”

“It’s been two weeks since he killed you,” Thor says finally. “It’s…a long story. Oh, but I did get a new eye from a new friend, you might have noticed that part. More importantly, I got a new weapon from Nidavellir imbued with the power of the Bifrost—I don’t have it _now_ , of course, I had to let them lock it down for the time being when I got here, but it helped a great deal in gathering up the remaining Asgardians and other refugees. Val was the one who mentioned the Grandmaster would bring his favorite contenders back to life sometimes, and she didn’t know if it was technology or magic, or if they were really dead or just very close to death—I still don’t know either—but I thought, if there was a chance…so I went back to the wreck of the _Statesman_ , found your body, and brought you to Sakaar.”

“You _idiot_ ,” Loki says (distantly, he’s pleased to discover that speaking forcefully carries almost no pain. “He could have killed you.”

“Well, he didn’t.”

“Because it struck his fancy not to. You escaped, stole his champion, and threw his entire planet into chaos—I’m amazed he didn’t just have you shot down and melted before you could even make your case.” Loki’s heart is pounding again, thinking of the danger Thor blundered into for _nothing_ , and—ah, that still hurts. He definitely has a headache now. “And then what would your people do without you? Your Avengers? What were you _thinking_?”

For a fraction of a second, Thor looks like he wants to snap back, and then he just looks…exhausted and beaten. “I was thinking I needed you back because you are all I have left. Especially now.”

“You said Valkyrie and the refugees survived, so—”

“I’m sorry,” Thor says over him. “You’re still healing. You don’t need to hear any of this yet.”

“I’m not a child and I don’t need to be coddled,” Loki snaps. “Tell me _what happened_ that made you think it was even slightly reasonable to risk your life in a harebrained attempt to get me back.”

Thor bows his head. “He won.”

For a moment Loki thinks his body has once again lost the ability to breathe. “No.”

“He got all the Infinity Stones,” Thor says, not looking at him now. “I had—I had a chance to kill him and I failed. He snapped his fingers and half of all life turned to dust.”

Loki takes in a long breath, just to remind himself he can. Lets it out. “I…see.”

Thor stares down at his hands. “Even Asgard’s tiny remnant—the remnant of the remnant, everyone who escaped with Val—they were reduced by half as well. The Avengers are diminished. Nearly all of their new allies are gone. There is chaos and mourning all across the universe, and I…” He meets Loki’s eyes again, and Loki can only stand the intensity of his gaze for a few seconds before he looks away himself. “I thought…I could not face it without you.”

“ _Norns_ , Thor,” Loki says.

“If you want a more practical motive, it also seemed to me your help would be invaluable, if there is any chance to undo what Thanos did.” Thor sighs. “I’m sorry I have so little good news for you.”

“That part,” Loki says, “is not your fault.” Wanting Loki by his side seems to imply that Thor does not expect to spend the rest of his (vastly shortened) life in the Grandmaster’s games, but— “You still haven’t told me everything. What was the price for my life? The Grandmaster doesn’t do anything for free.”

Thor’s expression…crumples. “I’m sorry,” he says. “He wouldn’t—I offered other things but he wasn’t interested, and—I couldn’t just leave you dead when I found out he could save you—”

“ _What was the price_ ,” Loki growls. Pain flares through his neck in warning and he tries to make himself relax, but it’s impossible when he is so tense he’s shaking.

Thor’s words tumble out in a rush. “Sex. With—with you. I don’t—mostly he was talking about ‘having some fun’ but he made it clear what he wanted. He even talked about ‘test-driving the merchandise,’ as if you were a _thing_ he was agreeing to fix.”

“Oh,” Loki says blankly. That is…not entirely unexpected, but for the Grandmaster to frame it as the actual price is more than a little odd, and it’s enough to make him nervous. “That’s all he wanted?”

“I’m sorry,” Thor says. “I know it was wrong to agree for you but I couldn’t ask you and I couldn’t convince him to accept something else—I tried, I swear—”

“I know. It’s…it’s all right.” It isn’t, not really, but it also isn’t Thor’s fault, so he has no intention of letting Thor bear guilt he doesn’t deserve. All things considered, it’s a price Loki is in fact willing to pay, and it isn’t an especially high one in the first place—a fact that does concern him, actually, but there is little point in worrying Thor too. “Was he any more specific than that?”

Thor shakes his head miserably, his guilt plainly not assuaged. “I couldn’t pin him down any further, and…I was desperate. I’m so sorry.”

“Thor, honestly,” Loki says, “it’s not that bad.”

Thor stares at him, incredulous. “What do you—how can you possibly say it’s _not that bad_?”

“Because I am practical enough to imagine prices I am far less willing to pay. It’s fine.”

“It is _not_ fine,” Thor says. “He’s demanding _sex_ in return for your _life_ , how is that even _close_ to ‘fine’?”

“And if I don’t have a choice, this isn’t helping, is it?” Loki snaps. “Unless your goal is to make it _harder_ to get through something that’s going to happen whether I want it or not, I suggest you drop it, because you are _not_ helping.”

Thor snaps his mouth shut, looking so suddenly stricken it would be comical in other circumstances. “I…I’m sorry. I never intended—I didn’t realize.”

Loki sighs. “I know you didn’t,” he says, the anger washing away and leaving behind nothing but exhaustion. Damn Thor for bringing up things he never, in fact, intended to think about, and for making him put words to his refusal to think about it in the first place. “It’s done. Just…let’s get through this and back into the fight. Anything else can wait until later.” Or never. Preferably never.

Thor gives him a melancholy half-smile that is as good as a promise that he isn’t going to drop this entirely, and that awareness sends another twist of anger and unease through Loki’s gut. _Damn_ Thor. But he says only, “You should sleep more, if you can. I have no idea when he might want you, and I doubt you’re fully healed yet.”

And there is another concern—if the Grandmaster expects Loki to be as active or flexible as he often likes, he might be disappointed this time, which is a dangerous mood. “I should probably eat something first.” He grimaces. “If you have anything easy to swallow.”

“Right, sorry, of course.” Thor brings him a large glass full of bright-green slush. At Loki’s skeptical look, he says, “It’s…some sort of nutrient slurry? I tried some as soon as he left and I haven’t noticed any ill effects.”

Loki accepts the glass with a shrug and takes a sip. The “slurry” has a vaguely fruity taste, more pleasant than the name would imply, and he drains about half of it before he’s too tired to continue. Thor takes it back before he can spill any, and once again Loki drifts to sleep. 

* * *

By the time the Grandmaster shows up again, Loki is very nearly recovered—his neck is still tender to the touch, with faded but visible bruising, and his left wrist twinges if he puts too much weight on it, but otherwise he feels…well, not at all as if he was a frozen corpse with a broken neck in the very recent past. He isn’t sure whether to be grateful the Grandmaster showed this much patience or uneasy about what he might be expecting. But he is fully functional again, and he’s had a chance to sleep, eat, and shower, all of which has gone a long way toward making him feel like he actually belongs in the land of the living again.

The one thing that would further improve the situation would be clothes, or something even slightly more substantial than what the Grandmaster left for him: a filmy, sleeveless gold robe that ends halfway down his thighs and leaves his chest mostly bare. Loki eyes himself in the bathroom mirror with a sense of resignation. Between the medical excuse and the likely sorry state of his clothes after fighting, dying, and floating in space in them, he isn’t surprised the Grandmaster decided to dispose of his leathers entirely, but it would have been nice to have options. At least once his magic recovers fully (which is unlikely to happen while they remain on Sakaar, and there’s something else he’d rather not think about for entirely different reasons), he can summon something better. For the time being, well, the Grandmaster has already made it clear what he wants, so Loki supposes there is little point in wishing he would be less blatant about it.

At least the Grandmaster appreciates the view, if his broad grin on sweeping back into their room is any indication. “Aren’t _you_ a sight for sore eyes! I told you, didn’t I? What did I say? C’mon, I know you remember.”

Loki smiles back at him, keeping his expression open and unconcerned. “You said I would be good as new, and…” He spreads his arms. “So I am, thanks to your matchless care and generosity. I confess I’m curious how you did it—I’ve never met anyone before who could restore life so easily.”

“That’s because you’ve never met anybody like _me_ before,” the Grandmaster says. He tugs at the tie of Loki’s robe and Loki steps into him, hoping the movement looks more like deliberate flirtation than an automatic reaction to keep from losing the robe too soon. “Mmm, boy, I was right about how you’d look in this little number. All that leather is—well it’s _nice_ , but sometimes it’s better if you just…don’t leave so much to the imagination. Honestly, you look good enough to eat, you really do.”

“You know best, as always,” Loki says, keeping his smile firmly in place.

The Grandmaster laughs. “You bet I do. Wanna see something else fun?” He lets go of Loki and claps three times—and every panel in the opposite wall flips to form an enormous, mostly seamless mirror. “I’ve got these in—I don’t know, I can’t keep track, lots of the nicer rooms. Helps spice things up a little. Neat, huh? What d’you think, Sparkles?”

Thor starts, clearly surprised to be addressed. “What do I—um, yes, it’s…definitely neat. Though—I’m not sure my opinion is relevant here?”

“Don’t be silly, of course it is!” the Grandmaster says. “We’re not kicking you out, that would—well that would just be _rude_ , and if there’s anything I don’t tolerate on Sakaar, it’s rudeness.”

Loki tries, and fails, to keep himself from tensing. Thor says, frowning, “So…are you _not_ going to…?”

“Oh, you are _cute_ , hasn’t anyone told you how cute you are? Of course Kiki and I are gonna have some fun, and you—well, you came all this way and went to all this effort. I can’t imagine you’d want to just _leave_. I mean—you said you were staying with baby brother here, right?”

Thor stares at him. “You…wait, I don’t understand.”

The Grandmaster presses Loki against his side. “No, ‘course you don’t, little Kiki here got all the brains in the family, didn’t he? Sweetheart, why don’t you lay it out for big brother, I don’t think he’s quite getting the picture.”

Loki swallows. He should’ve known this wouldn’t stay simple—or that the Grandmaster would be content to do his own dirty work, for that matter. “He means that…he expects you wish to remain in the room while I…demonstrate how thoroughly I have been healed. As—as a natural consequence of the depth of your gratitude.”

“See? Not that hard!” the Grandmaster says, while Thor gapes at him in round-eyed horror. “Like I said—we’re generous here. All about making sure _everybody_ has a good time. So—hm, okay, how do we want to do this…right, let’s pull the big chair out a little and Sparkles, why don’t you take that chair over there?”

“If…if you insist,” Thor says in a strangled sort of voice.

“What— _insist_ ,” the Grandmaster says almost indignantly. “Honey, if I _insisted_ , you’d know it, because you’d—well, you’d be in one of my _other_ chairs. This is about—Kiki, maybe you better explain it to him a little better, I think he’s still not getting it.”

Loki’s smile feels fixed but he can’t drop it, not with the mirror there—and he can’t speak plainly either, not without getting one or both of them in more trouble. “If you wish to leave, brother, of course you may do so. But if you did, it—might be difficult for you to express your gratitude to our host for returning me to life. So…perhaps you might in fact _wish_ to stay. If you will…forgive me the assumption.”

“I…yes,” Thor says. “Yes, when you put it that way, of course I wish to stay. Of course.”

“ _Marvelous_ ,” the Grandmaster says. He captures Loki’s mouth in a kiss that feels more like a mark of ownership, then gives him a little shove toward the plush chairs closer to the mirror. Loki’s flimsy robe, still in the Grandmaster’s hand, slips right off. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 will be up...soon, maybe tomorrow. I meant to post the whole thing at once but as usual I underestimated the amount of time it would take me to type, arrange, and edit everything, and I really wanted to post something on the actual day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain elements of this chapter were partially inspired by ragnasok's amazing fic "[on a string](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277203)." Also, uh. If you follow me on [Tumblr](http://thelightofthingshopedfor.tumblr.com) (if not, you can totally do that), you may have seen me having a minor meltdown over this fic and particularly this chapter, because...listen, I really can't emphasize enough how much this is not _at all_ like anything I've written before, and I feel _very weird_ about it, partly because like--it's so new to me that I'm kind of incapable of judging whether it's objectively really fucked up or just really fucked up compared to other things I've written. (I think probably it's objectively pretty fucked up, though, and if you read chapter 1 and went "huh, this is pretty fucked up," chapter 2 is all of that but also A LOT MORE.) So, proceed with that in mind; also note that I've updated the rating and added some new tags, although if you don't have any triggers and/or you'd rather be surprised, you might want to skip reading those for now. I'm also filing this under [Whumptober](http://thelightofthingshopedfor.tumblr.com/post/178196420087/kaciart-killian-whump-la-vie-en-whump), because I didn't write it _for_ that but it hits like five of the prompts, so...why not.

Loki has always liked to think he is reasonably good at ignoring unhelpful emotions or details in order to focus on the task at hand. Before that fateful trip to Jotunheim, he would have considered such a situation in terms of remaining cool-headed in battle: filtering out anything that might distract him from crafting illusions, watching for openings, or protecting his comrades’ backs. Being able to concentrate on a book in a noisy feasting hall was another, less difficult way of applying this skill. After Jotunheim, of course, everything fell apart and continued to do so for quite some time, but at least under the right circumstances he is still reasonably capable of choosing to narrow his attention to the things that matter most in the moment while shutting the rest away for later.

Having sex in front of his brother, particularly in the very specific context of having sex with the immensely powerful dictator who brought him back to life at Thor’s request and can kill him again just as easily if he proves unsatisfactory, is not the sort of situation for which he ever thought to prepare himself.

Under other circumstances, it wouldn’t be that difficult. The Grandmaster pulled the biggest, plushest chair toward the center of the room, sat down, and patted his lap, and now Loki is essentially kneeling over him, his bent legs bracketing the Grandmaster’s and pressed against the high sides of the chair. The Grandmaster seems perfectly content to let Loki do all the work, but that’s not so bad, even if his thighs started to burn almost immediately; with the pace up to him, there’s at least a chance he can get this over with quickly while still giving the Grandmaster a good time. It won’t even matter if Loki finishes (unless the Grandmaster decides to make it matter), which is also just as well.

But the Grandmaster also insisted on facing him outward, a more precarious position that would handily occupy his attention if not for the fact that he has to look at himself in the mirror or at Thor—and the Grandmaster, avidly watching him in the mirror, will know and disapprove if he closes his eyes. Thor, for his part, is just slightly off to the side, where he has an unobstructed view of Loki without blocking any relevant part of the mirror. He is staring fixedly at the floor, his fists clenched and his face red, because he can’t help hearing even if he tries very hard not to see. And even if Loki could be entirely silent—which he can’t, especially not when he’s working this hard and the Grandmaster is buried inside him—the Grandmaster always, always likes to hear himself talk. He also isn’t in any particular hurry.

 _Thor, I’m sorry,_ Loki wants to say. _You shouldn’t have to see—I’m sorry—_

“Ooh, right there, that was nice,” the Grandmaster says, despite the fact that Loki seems to be making very little real progress several minutes in. His thighs are trembling, sweat rolling down his sides, and his toes are starting to cramp where they’re wedged against the back of the chair. His left wrist in particular is beginning to really hurt again, but bracing his hands against the armrests is crucial to maintaining his balance. He can keep this up for a while longer, at least, but it isn’t likely to be pleasant.

“Anything to please,” he says, a little breathlessly. “Only tell me…what else I might do…”

“You know, I had a thought about that, actually,” the Grandmaster says. He runs one hand up Loki’s torso, stopping over his heart. “It’s not you, honey, you’re doing great, it’s just—your brother over there, he’s kinda bringing down the mood, you know? I just can’t help feeling like he _really_ doesn’t want to be here.”

Thor tenses without looking up and opens his mouth to speak, but Loki beats him to it. “Of—of course he does. This is just—new to him.”

“Well, you know what they say about learning on the job. Actually, what _do_ they say about learning on the job? You know what, doesn’t matter, point is it’s a good thing and everybody should work on learning something new. Get out of your comfort zone, you know. The alternative is just— _boring_.” Loki makes a noise of assent, but the Grandmaster isn’t done. “And Sakaar, ha, if anybody said Sakaar was boring, I’d be—well, I’d be upset. We don’t do rude here and we don’t do boring. So—c’mon, Sparkles, push that comfort zone. Kiki here’s doing a lot of work but I bet he’s feeling neglected, and I only have so many hands, so come over here and help out. Show us some of that gratitude.”

Thor’s head jerks up. “ _What_?”

Loki’s pace stutters, his fingers digging into the armrests hard enough to pierce the fabric. “I’m—I’m perfectly fine, Grandmaster,” he manages. “I don’t—I could never feel neglected, not here. Surely we don’t need to—”

“Ah-ah, kitten, that sounds—that sounds an awful lot like you’re saying I’m wrong. That would be—a funny slip of the tongue, huh? I bet you’re not actually saying I’m wrong.”

Loki snaps his mouth shut, stomach churning. He doesn’t know what to _say_ that might fix this. “It’s just—I would be terribly disappointed in myself, to think I’m not enough for you—”

“Of course not! Of—why would you think that?” The Grandmaster sounds almost scandalized now, and Loki has no idea if that’s a good sign or a bad one. “Like I said, you’re doing great. The thing is—this is Sakaar, honey, we don’t do the whole ‘less is more’ thing here. I know you remember. More is always, well, _more_. But you know, if you really don’t like that idea, I did have another fun thought,” and his hand slides up Loki’s chest and wraps around his throat.

Thor lurches to his feet, eyes widening. Loki’s entire body locks up, his hands clenching into fists so tight the armrests give way under his fingers with a _crunch_. Instinct screams at him to run, _now_ ; hard-earned experience keeps him pinned in place, heart suddenly pounding so hard he feels sick. He can’t run and he can’t fight, he knows better, he’s not allowed and that will only make things worse, so instead he holds still and shakes. There’s no pressure, yet, nothing except the Grandmaster’s hand loosely circling his neck, but all he can feel is Thanos.

“No,” he hears himself gasp, and that’s _very_ bad but he can’t make himself stop, “don’t, don’t do that, please don’t, I can’t—”

“ _Wow_ ,” the Grandmaster says, sounding delighted. “That’s—boy, quite a reaction, huh? I—I gotta say, I don’t _love_ some of the words you’re using, doesn’t seem too grateful either, but we can work with that. Ooh, actually, I just had an even better idea. Kind of…mix things up a little.” He takes his hand away and Loki slumps with relief that is too strong to hide.

“I’m—I’m happy to do whatever you want,” he says, hating the way his voice still shakes. “It’s just—that particular—”

“Now hang on, honey, I’m thinking here,” the Grandmaster says over him. “I’m thinking…yeah, this sounds good. Okay.” He hooks his chin over Loki’s shoulder to smile at Thor. “How about this, Sparkles: you make him come, and he gets to breathe again.”

Loki’s heart drops, all rational thought vanishing, and he lunges away—or tries, yanked up short so he doesn’t even make it off the Grandmaster’s lap. Faintly glowing threads of power tether him to the chair at wrists, knees, and ankles, immovable and unbreakable. In the mirror he sees another thread coil around his throat, and then—

_You should choose your words more carefully._

—he can’t breathe.

Nothing is touching him except the Grandmaster’s magic but he can feel it again, the unyielding pressure of the Infinity Gauntlet bruising his flesh and squeezing his windpipe shut. He struggles, choking. Nothing gets in or out.

He’s trapped. He _can’t breathe_.

“Now, that’s the stuff,” the Grandmaster says appreciatively. He pats Loki’s quivering chest. “Keep squirming, honeybunch, that’s—well, I’m into it, that’s for sure.”

Thor takes a step toward them, his face nearly as ashen as Loki’s. “Please,” he says, “let him go, I’ll—”

The Grandmaster _tsk_ s. “I just told you like 30 seconds ago what you need to do, Sparkles, were you really not listening? I was joking when I said Kiki got all the brains in the family, but he really did, didn’t he?”

“But I—” Thor swallows, his gaze on Loki agonized. Loki’s fingers dig harder into the chair’s ruined arms as he gasps for air that never reaches his lungs. His _seidr_ pulses weakly within him but no matter how much he scrabbles to reach it, there is nothing for him to grasp. “I _can’t_ —”

“Better get going there,” the Grandmaster says, eyeing Loki in the mirror. “Looks like you’re uh, gonna be starting from scratch now, so…chop chop, right?”

Thor is still frozen, staring at them. His artificial eye is virtually emotionless, an eerie contrast with the anguish in his real eye. _Please_ , Loki wants to say, and he doesn’t even know what he would beg for if he could, if he had the breath to speak and all his words weren’t drowned under panic.

The Grandmaster clicks his tongue disapprovingly, but his eyes still gleam with interest. “I mean—I _can_ bring him back again, if you really don’t want to do anything? Let him die again, I’ll bring him back, it’s—it’s not a _huge_ deal. But it seems sort of, sort of unnecessarily traumatic, you know? And—I don’t know, I might not feel like doing it a second or third time. Just a—a thought, there.”

_No. No no no, I can’t—_

Thor moves, finally, crashing to his knees in front of them. His hands on Loki are clumsy with haste and too dry to be comfortable, but Loki is far past the point of caring when he _can’t breathe_ and the hands on him belong to his _brother_.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says. His hand is almost frantic. “Loki, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Aw, Sparkles, you’re doing great, don’t be so hard on yourself,” the Grandmaster says. “Ha, speaking of _hard_ , looks like you’re making progress! Well, a little progress. Knew you’d be good at this, didn’t we, Kiki?” His hand twists in Loki’s hair and drags his head back to claim his gasping mouth—and then breaks off, laughing. “Hey, look at that, his lips are turning blue! We almost match now, Kiki, isn’t that fun?”

Thor’s unsteady breath sounds like he’s the one choking. His free hand settles on Loki’s knee and trembles.

“It’s—kind of a good color on you, honestly. Well, that and the—” The Grandmaster moves, thrusting upward hard as he jerks Loki down to meet him, and on some level Loki knows it hurts but the pain barely registers next to the burning in his lungs, the crushing agony in his throat, the all-consuming need for air. “—the desperation, generally, it’s—well it’s just a good look on you, you know? Probably not—” Another punishing jolt, and surely it’s impossible but he feels the ethereal cords around his neck draw _tighter_. “—not too _relaxed_ just now, I bet, but hey, at least you’re not worrying about being in control all the time.” To Thor he adds in an almost confiding tone, “He’s always so—wound tight, you know? If you’ll, ah, pardon the expression. Some kinds of _tight_ are more fun than others.”

Thor makes a sound that’s half growl, half sob. He is shaking too, now. Loki can’t see his expression like this—can’t see much regardless, with his vision starting to lose color and dissolve at the edges—but he can make out the wet track of tears on his face, like the _Statesman_ all over again.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts that way, the Grandmaster keeping up a running commentary that Loki is increasingly unable to comprehend as he is handled like a doll and starved of oxygen. All of it feels less and less real—the Grandmaster’s bruising grip on his sides, Thor’s hands on him—only the panicked instinct that keeps his body struggling as he weakens is real and his fluttering heartbeat that says _can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t—breathe—can’t—can’t—_

_Thor I’m sorry I’m sorry just leave don’t watch me die again—_

The Grandmaster says something that Loki can’t make out at all over the roaring in his ears. He thinks—it’s impossible to be sure because he can’t think, can barely see, but he thinks he feels—Thor’s _mouth_ —

His body jerks, helplessly, and he doesn’t know if he’s coming or just convulsing. He wavers on the edge of consciousness, the world shrinking down to nothing but the pressure on his throat and lungs and the Grandmaster grinding up into him—

—and then he’s falling, lurching into Thor, the restraints suddenly gone. He ends up sprawled half on the floor and half on top of his brother, unable to do anything but gasp for breath. His lungs _hurt_ , his throat feels scraped raw, and his pained wheezing really isn’t getting him enough air but he can _breathe_ again and nothing else matters yet. Thor pulls him backward and then shifts him fully to the floor, not touching him more than absolutely necessary, and Loki curls in on himself. His body shudders with the force of his gasping.

“You got what you wanted,” Thor says, stepping between Loki and the Grandmaster. “Now give me back my axe and let us go.”

“Oh, _Sparkles_ ,” the Grandmaster says. “You’re cute, you really are. Both of you. I should’ve done this ages ago.” He gets up, movements languid and unhurried. “Seriously, that—that protective streak? Especially the way it kinda goes both ways? _Adorable_. And you know, I’ve just had a great time, so I’m gonna overlook you thinking you can give orders around here.”

Thor takes a sharp breath, about to say something else ill-advised. Loki has just enough presence of mind to slap Thor’s ankle in warning, and Thor audibly swallows whatever he wants to say and moderates his tone. “I don’t mean to…give orders. I only—I understood that we could go as soon as you were—satisfied. Was I wrong?”

“Mm, well, I don’t know, honey.” The Grandmaster strolls toward the door, idly tucking himself away and straightening his robe. “I mean this was _fun_ , don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know if…well, we’ll see. The rest of the universe can get by without you for a day or two, right?”

“But—you said—”

“Baby, I say a lot of things. It’s kind of what I do. Oh, don’t look so sad, you can’t tell me our kitten here didn’t enjoy that at least a little. I mean—he wouldn’t be breathing otherwise, right?” With a final wink, the Grandmaster sails out.

The door hisses shut behind him, and finally Loki is alone again with Thor—who is almost certainly regretting his bargain by now. As if to confirm it, he turns on his heel and stalks out of Loki’s field of vision. Loki hunches inward more tightly, arms clutched to his chest. He can’t stop shaking, can’t stop the tears that keep trickling from his eyes, can’t steady his ragged breathing. He hurts and he’s so cold, but moving at all feels like an impossible, pointless task.

He should have stayed dead. Again.

Thor’s feet come back into view and something soft settles over Loki’s body. He blinks at it where it falls over his clenched fists and recognizes the blanket from the bed before his vision blurs with a fresh flood of tears.

Thor crouches in front of him. “I’m—I’m just going to move you to the bed, okay?” But he doesn’t move, and Loki finally realizes he’s waiting for permission.

“Mhm,” he manages. His throat _aches_. Thor gathers him up, gently, keeping the blanket between them as a barrier, and settles him on the bed. His hands still flinch from touching Loki any more than necessary, and he pulls away immediately.

Loki grabs his wrist, unthinking, and Thor freezes. Loki lets go as if burned, his skin suddenly hot with shame. Of course Thor is disgusted with him; how could he be anything else? How could Loki forget so quickly in his childish need for comfort? “Please,” he rasps. His voice sounds almost as shattered as he feels. “I’m sorry. I won’t—I’m sorry. Just—don’t go. Please.”

“You—what?” Thor says. “You have _nothing_ to apologize for.”

Loki squeezes his eyes shut. “My fault. All of it. And then you had to…” His throat closes.

“If anyone needs to beg forgiveness it’s me,” Thor says. His voice is thick with tears too. “I— _violated_ you.”

Loki opens his eyes to stare at him. “That was. Not _your_ fault.”

Thor hesitates for a long moment, then exhales, climbs onto the bed, and tentatively rests his hand on Loki’s shoulder. His cleaner hand, Loki notes, and tries not to think about it, because Thor’s warmth is the only thing that seems to touch the cold deep in Loki’s bones. He hitches himself in closer to Thor, still shivering violently. For a heartstopping moment he thinks his brother will pull away anyway, but then Thor shuffles down to lie flat as well and tucks Loki against his side.

Slowly, Loki’s muscles start to release their painful strain, and his breathing edges further away from near-hyperventilation. After several minutes he says, “When he agreed to bring me back. Did he say…how long until we could go?”

Thor sighs, and his breath stirs Loki’s hair. “No. I don’t know if you heard him just now, but…”

“A day or two,” Loki says. “He means…outside. Here it’s…” Well, he doesn’t know what the time difference between Sakaar and the rest of the universe is like right now, but it hardly matters, because his brain is far too scrambled for math. “Longer. Much longer.”

“Yes,” Thor says after a moment. “But—no obedience disks yet, on either of us. That’s…that’s something. And we got away once before. If I can get Stormbreaker back, we have an easy way out. If not—Val knows this place. If I’m gone too long, she’ll come for us, and she won’t come alone.”

Loki winces. “She shouldn’t have to.”

“Well,” Thor says, his voice rumbling in Loki’s chest, “that’s her decision to make, isn’t it?”

He is not, Loki suspects, only speaking of Valkyrie now. “I suppose.”

Thor’s arm tightens around Loki’s shoulder. “One way or another, we will survive this, and we will get out of here. Together.” He presses a kiss to Loki’s forehead. “This I swear.”

“Sentiment,” Loki mumbles, but there’s no heat in his voice. For the moment, he is too wrung out to do anything except lie here and breathe and try not to think—about Thanos, who killed him, nearly killed Thor, wiped out half the universe, and still lurks somewhere out in the dark; about the Grandmaster, who knows now that he can play his new toys against each other for endless entertainment; about _anything_. He tells himself: Thor still believes they’ll make it through this. Loki thinks his own faith died the day he fell into the Void, but Thor…maybe his can be enough for both of them, at least for now.

(It has to be. Loki has nothing else left to give.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THEN VALKYRIE COMES CRASHING IN WITH ROCKET, NEBULA, THE REMAINING AVENGERS, AND ANYBODY ELSE SHE COULD GET, AND EVERYTHING IS FINE
> 
> no seriously though, I don't have any plans of actually continuing this (although even if I did, that...wouldn't mean much, with my track record), but that's basically what I envision happening next: Valkyrie has been keeping careful track of how long Thor's been gone and calculating how long it's been for him based on what she remembers about Sakaar (my general thought is that the time difference varies a bit because wormholes but she was there long enough to get a decent feel for the typical ranges, so she can make an estimate that's accurate to within a few Sakaaran hours), and once she decides Thor's been gone too long, she heads up a rescue mission to get him back. They're ready to go pretty much as soon as she says to, because she wasn't reckless with grief the same way Thor was and therefore she was thinking more about contingency plans. She was also thinking it might just be her, Rocket (who helped Thor retrieve Loki's body), and maybe Bruce, but no, everybody else wanted to help Thor too and at that point they were all pretty much like "Loki might be coming back too? eh, why not, everything is fucked to an almost hilarious degree, this might as well happen". So they all come swooping in, and by then it's probably been at least a couple more days for Thor and Loki but the Grandmaster's mostly been letting them recover more (I mean, he doesn't want to _break_ his toys already, that's...that's wasteful), and they've been trying to recover Stormbreaker without much success. Valkyrie and company provide a very convenient distraction, Thor gets Stormbreaker, and they all Bifrost the hell out of there.


End file.
